Ranching for Sylvia eBook

“We must have a talk,” he began, indicating
the documents in George’s hand. “I
suppose you have grasped the position, even if Sylvia
hasn’t explained it. She shows an excellent
knowledge of details.”

There was a hint of dryness in his tone that escaped
George’s notice.

“So far as I can make out,” he answered,
“Dick owned a section of a second-class wheat-land,
with a mortgage on the last quarter, some way back
from a railroad. The part under cultivation gives
a poor crop.”

“What would you value the property at?”

George made a rough calculation.

“I expected something of the kind,” Herbert
told him. “It’s all Sylvia has to
live upon, and the interest would hardly cover her
dressmaker’s bills.” He looked directly
at his cousin. “Of course, it’s possible
that she will marry again.”

“She must never be forced to contemplate it
by any dread of poverty,” George said shortly.

“How is it to be prevented?”

George merely looked thoughtful and a little stern.
Getting no answer, Herbert went on:

“So far as I can see, we have only two courses
to choose between. The first is to sell out
as soon as we can find a buyer, with unfortunate results
if your valuation’s right; but the second looks
more promising. With immigrants pouring into
the country, land’s bound to go up, and we ought
to get a largely increased price by holding on a while.
To do that, I understand, the land should be worked.”

“Yes. It could, no doubt, be improved;
which would materially add to its value.”

“I see one difficulty: the cost of superintendence
might eat up most of the profit. Wages are high
on the prairie, are they not?”

George assented, and Herbert continued:

“Then a good deal would depend on the man in
charge. Apart from the question of his honesty,
he would have to take a thorough interest in the farm.”

“He would have to think of nothing else, and
be willing to work from sunrise until dark,”
said George. “Successful farming means
determined effort in western Canada.”

“Could you put your hands upon a suitable person?”

“I’m very doubtful. You don’t
often meet with a man of the kind we need in search
of an engagement at a strictly moderate salary.”

“Then it looks as if we must sell out now for
enough to provide Sylvia with a pittance.”

“That,” George said firmly, “is
not to be thought of!”

There was a short silence while he pondered, for his
legacy had not proved an unmixed blessing. At
first he had found idleness irksome, but by degrees
he had grown accustomed to it. Though he was
still troubled now and then by an idea that he was
wasting his time and making a poor use of such abilities
as he possessed, it was pleasant to feel that, within
certain limits, he could do exactly as he wished.
Life in western Canada was strenuous and somewhat primitive;
he was conscious of a strong reluctance to resume
it; but he could not bear to have Sylvia, who had
luxurious tastes, left almost penniless. There
was a way in which he could serve her, and he determined
to take it. George was steadfast in his devotion,
and did not shrink from a sacrifice.